


something in the look you give

by ofself



Category: Korean Drama, 시그널 | Signal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kindness, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofself/pseuds/ofself
Summary: He's forgotten how to feel. A small, bright, aromatic orange fruit reminds him of what it is to feel.Implied Kim Min Joo /Yoo Seung Yeon, Signal.





	something in the look you give

**Author's Note:**

> When I finished watching Signal a few weeks ago, one of the things that fucked me up (in addition to the rest of the drama basically) was the story behind Kim Jin Woo (the fellow who buried a bunch of dead bodies on the mountain) and his final victim, Yoo Seung Yeon (the girl who offered him a clementine). So naturally I wrote fic about them that explored a possible future encounter between them because how else can one deal with feelings about side characters? ;_;
> 
> title from Dark In My Imagination by Of Verona.

His head is full of emptiness these days.

Blank, soft edges. A consequence of the many medications he takes in a day.

There are flashes of lucidity, of overwhelmingly oppressive feelings now and then, but they are mostly drowned out by the prick of the tranquilizer, leaving him in a dimension where he floats through everything. He’s grateful to not feel, in those few moments where his brain is able to string a thought together. After years of feeling, and suppressing, it’s good, to not feel at all.

The nurses think he checked out a long time ago.

The truth is, he just can’t summon the energy to react.

 _Until_.

-

When your mind is clouded, food tastes like nothing. And if he cannot taste anything, he doesn’t need to know what he’s eating.

He just eats. Transfers a formless shape from plate to mouth. Swallows and lets it sit.

 _Until_.

-

A clementine. Small and round. Bright and loud against the gray metal of the plate. He bites into the fruit, and a sharp piquancy floods his mouth. It’s astringently sweet. It demands that he acknowledge it.

He tastes. He just tastes. He savors. He feels.

The clementine is an anomaly. In his world, it has no place. He does not know where it has come from either.

 _Until_.

-

The clementine appears once more.

He takes a slice between his fingers and squeezes it. The fruit gives up its pulp easily and a pulpy juice runs down his hands. It’s such a small fruit but it’s so aromatic. His room, which normally smells pleasantly vapid now feels warm and sweet.

He eats the rest of the fruit with something akin to fondness. He doesn’t question where it comes from.

 _Until_.

-

The clementine appears once more and he looks up to see the hand that places it. The hand is attached to a body, and the body to a face.

A face he feels like he has seen once before.

It’s a face with a sad, sweet smile.

The woman is startled when he looks up and draws back her outstretched hand immediately.

Like the clementine, she’s an anomaly in his room. Alive and breathing, warm and present, a wash of soft colour compared to the vapid grey of the walls. He takes a deep breath and feels water running down his cheeks. His hand reaches up to the wipe them off. Tears. He hasn’t experienced them in a while.

The woman fishes in her pockets and presents him with a handkerchief. A small white square of soft cloth, with embroidered flowers on the edges.

He accepts the handkerchief. She smiles and leaves the room.

The clementine seems to wink up at him and the handkerchief is a featherlight weight in his hands. Now there are three anomalies in this room.

A fruit. A piece of cloth. Him.

For the longest time, he couldn’t distinguish himself from the room. When you are a passive prisoner within four walls, there’s not much you can do. Or even want to do.

Now he feels like a separate entity. One who has tears to spill.

He eats the clementine slowly and holds on the handkerchief. It’s like coming out of a long stupor.

-

 _Finally_.

**Author's Note:**

> I have plenty of weird and questionable ships and this is one of the weirder ones. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Come say hi to me on tumblr! You can find me at wullu.tumblr.com.


End file.
